


The Bet

by TheAuthorGod



Series: Something Profound [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Castiel fucking Novak verse, Drag Queens, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabe owns a strip club, M/M, Mirror Mates, Pole Dancing, Soulmates, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3196325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/pseuds/TheAuthorGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Gabe have a wager going.  Winner gets a hundred dollars.  Who can make more tips at Gabe's strip club this weekend?  </p><p>Dean really doesn't want to lose and a spot opens up on one of the pole platforms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> This makes sense if you read the rest of the series first; but, if you don't want to, all you really have to know is that Dean and Cas are soulmates who have already bonded.
> 
> Oh god, I had to look up how much money a stripper makes; I think my mother saw. Oh shit!
> 
> Sorry, writing John Winchester rn is a pain in the ass and I want it to be good; so, I haven't gotten to a publication point on the final chapter of Castiel fucking Novak... hopefully this will tide you over. :D
> 
> UNPROOF'D. UNBETA'D. Mistakes are mine; characters are not.

Dean and Gabe had a bet going and Dean was pretty sure that, if things kept going the way they were going, he would lose. He and Gabe had made a simple bet. Dean bet $100 that he could make more tips over the weekend than Gabe could in the strip club. Dean didn’t have much time to win with the weekend coming to a close that night. He was still a sizable chunk behind.  
  
“How’s it going Dean-o?” Gabe sauntered over fanning himself with what must have been 20 splayed ones.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean tried to ignore the sinking feeling just behind his belly button. He wiped the counter with increased vigor. “Just fine, Gabriel.” Dean cleaned up two empty glasses and picked up the 5 dollar bill that was left with them.  
  
Batting lashes, Gabe grinned wickedly. “Well, it’s about time for my show. Watch and weep.”  
  
“Wait, you can’t count the tips you make during your show. That’s not fair.” Dean held up the wash rag indignantly and began pouring together a mixed drink.  
  
Gabe looked back over his shoulder. “No, it’s show business.”  
  
Slamming a fist on the counter and trying not to scare away a squirmy, barely-legal kid from the bar, Dean glared after Gabe. Gabe’s performance would put him in a huge lead. It was not how Dean wanted to start his summer.  
  
Balthazar rushed over to the phone behind the bar. He typed in a number by jamming the buttons with the pad of his thumb. Dean tried not to over hear the call but he was shaking together a drink and using ingredients that were in that part of the back cabinets and shelves.  
  
“Hi, Jeff, are you coming in today?”  
  
Dean put the cobbler shaker together and lifted it. The rattle of the ice did little to block out Balthazar’s voice. His voice was low enough that it slipped under the high pitched music and the ice’s timpani.  
  
“No, I thought you switched with Marit- … Well, she didn’t show up for work either.” Balthazar ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll give the hours to someone else.” He hooked the red phone onto the receiver. He scrubbed a hand down his face.  
  
Moving quickly, Dean poured the drink into a martini glass and handed it to the hand of a woman who ordered it. She handed him the money for the drink plus 3 ones for a tip. He turned to Balthazar while tucking the bills into the pocket of his apron. “What’s gone wrong?”  
  
Balth sagged further. “Neither Jeff nor Marita showed up for their shift today; and, I don’t know who to put up. I would just stick Gabe up there but he has two performances tonight.”  
  
Dean felt his face flush even at the thought; but, he cleared his throat to make way for his suggestion. “I can take the shift. I mean, I won’t do lap dances; but, I’ll take to the pole.”  
  
Peeking up from his defeated stature, Balth squinted at him. “You’re not just saying this because Gabe and you have some game going, yeah?”  
  
“How did you know?” Dean rolled his eyes and tried to shake it off as something unsubstantial.  
  
The lights dimmed minutely and Gabriel’s first performance began. Before the music even began to play, two different people had run up and tucked money into his lingerie top. Gabe flaunted in it. Dean found it almost prideful to be able to say that he knew Gabe; that he was dating Gabe’s brother. It took serious guts and a secure identity to do what Gabe did; and to do it well required skill.  
  
“Look, I know how to dance on a pole – that’s what you meant by shift right? Someone didn’t come in for their shift on one of the poles.”  
  
Balth stood up and shook his shoulders and head lightly, like he was ridding himself of invisible water. “When did you learn to…”  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Nevermind, I’ll just take your word for it.” Balthazar wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “better get back there and ready. Your shift begins in 20.”  
  
\---  
  
Dean rushed into one of the empty dressing rooms in the back. He had yet to bring in Sam; but, his mother had been there and actually enjoyed herself, much to Dean’s displeasure. She had liked talking to the Drag Queens and seemed to generally enjoy Balthazar’s company. Gabe was a different story. Dean thought it was funny how left out Gabe had seemed by the end of the night; he had almost as strong of a puppy-dog face as Sam could pull.  
  
He knocked on Ariel’s door and – Ariel wasn’t dressed yet so he was still Uriel – he opened the door.  
  
Smiling as wide as possible. “Can I use your make-up? I’m filling in for Jeff on the pole.”  
  
Uriel’s face broke into a wide smirk; it was about as close to smiling as the guy got. “Can I do you up?”  
  
“I’ve only got 20 minutes.”  
  
Pulling out the large tool-box-sized kit, Uriel clucked. “I can have you done in 5 minutes, monkey.” He steered Dean into the chair and brandished a make-up brush in each hand.  
  
Dean held his breath, closed his eyes, and let Uriel do his work. He had done Cas up a while back. Dean smiled at the thought of Cas. He was on some sort of nerd-venture with Sam for the weekend. Sam had wanted to go to some convention a few towns over and Dad had already signed up for hours at the garage. Mom had some sort of important meeting via telephone that prevented her from taking Sam. Dean felt a little lonely without Cas. He sometimes felt the uneasiness and sickness that came with being away from Cas; but; if he kept his mind off of it; it was generally bearable.  
  
“Hey monkey, do you want sparkle or no sparkle?”  
  
Shrugging, Dean figured that if he wanted to beat Gabe he might as well bring out all the stops. “Let’s go with sparkle.”  
  
Smiling, Uriel got back to work.  
  
Gabe was a lot like Dean. Dean recognized and despised that fact. He teased Cas the way that Dean liked to tease Sam; but, it didn’t stop there. He had taken it upon himself to tease Dean and Sam too. While Sam had never been to the club, he had met Gabe. It had been altogether hilarious. The ‘Cas-like’ half of the Winchester brothers and the ‘Dean-like’ half of the Novak brothers meeting. Dean had thought his and Cas’ rivalry was bad; that was worse. It was hilarious and they were well-matched after years of practice but… damn. Sam had been explosive and Balth had needed to reprimand Gabe.  
  
“You are all done.” Uriel dabbed his finger a final time against Dean’s lips before spinning him around to see himself in the mirror.  
  
It was like he was looking at a totally different person. He brought a hand to the edge of his jaw to force himself to acknowledge that it was indeed him but also to avoid messing up the make-up.  
  
“Hey there, Deana.” Uriel spoke with a prideful smirk at Dean’s reflection.  
  
Dean screwed his eyebrows together.  
  
Tutting and pursing his lips, Uriel shook his head in agreement. “You need a different name. You’re far too pretty to be a Deana.”  
  
“Hey, my grandmother’s name was Deana!”  
  
Uriel raised an eyebrow. “Do you think she used that name when she performed at the strip club?”  
  
“Oh god!” Dean scrunched his face and squeezed his eyes in disgust. “Why would you-? Why would I want to think about my grandmother in a strip club?”  
  
Packing away the make-up, Uriel shrugged. “You’re the one who brought it up.”  
  
Dean huffed. “I think I’ll go by… I dunno? What do you think?” He turned to Uriel and glanced up under heavily mascaraed eyes.  
  
Uriel spoke back matter-of-factly, “Princess.”  
  
Feeling a look and feeling of skepticism settle in, Dean pursed his lips a little. “Really?”  
  
Nodding, Uriel shooed him from the room. “Go, go now, Princess. The extra costumes are in the back closet. You’ve got 12 minutes.”  
  
Dean turned and sped away.  
  
\---  
  
Dean couldn’t walk in any of the shoes that he found in the extras’ closet; so he decided that he’d have to go with barefoot. He wasn’t particularly fond of high heels; he had tried them once when the team had dared him at some alcoholic get together. It had ended in bruises.  
  
Dean shifted a little in the flared, pink, hopefully-faux leather skirt and white oxford tied dixie style. He smeared the lip gloss or lipstick or whatever was on his lips around in thought. He was about to dance on a stripper pole in a strip club. The only saving grace was that it was for a bet.  
  
The Drag Queen before him stepped down using the steps and sized him up. She smiled and tipped Dean's head back with two manicured fingers. Dean recognized her as Lucy. “Have fun, kid.”  
  
Swallowing, Dean puffed his chest up and set his jaw. He climbed the steps and noticed that he only had a few people watching. That made it easier. He listened to the music and circled the pole once, twice. He was stalling and he was being a coward.  
  
He cut that off. Suddenly, he was moving on the pole. He kicked his leg up and hooked his heel and foot around the pole. He raised the other leg and spun around the pole. One person wolf whistled. Another reached up to tuck cash into his shirt. That spurred Dean on. He wanted to win the bet.  
  
He grinned and began to move with the music more smoothly. He wriggled his hips on the upbeat in the chorus and hooked himself around the pole and spun during the lulling verses. He used his arms to leverage himself up the pole upside down and stretched his leg out straight.  
  
A part of Dean felt really pretty. He was out of reach of most of the people because he was using the majority of the pole. He saw someone, the red hair made him think Ariel, bring out a pair of shoes to put on the stage. The spectators began filling the shoes with money.  
  
Dean wasn’t wearing a wig or shoes but people were complimenting him anyway. “Gorgeous.” Dean swiveled his hips against the pole. “Beautiful.” He reached out, trusting his legs to hold him up, and ran his hands over his own head. “Wow.”  
  
Grinning, he licked his lips and continued through another and another song. He didn’t take any clothes off and he didn’t say anything. He didn’t let people touch him because he didn’t want to be touched. He wanted to win a bet and maybe, just maybe, feel pretty for a little bit.  
  
He was startled when someone tapped his shoulder. It wasn’t sexual; so it didn’t bother Dean too much. He turned to see Ruby raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s my turn.”  
  
Dean untangled himself from the pole and gave a finally wiggle to his audience. It had grown so that the surrounding tables were all full. They cheered and one woman ran up to push a few more dollars into one of the golden shoes.  
  
Making a show of his ass, Dean squatted down to grab the shoes from the edge of the stage and lifted the heels by the straps. He slung them carefully over his shoulder and smiled seductively at the crowd. He rolled back up to standing and took the steps down the back.  
  
When his bare feet touched the regular, glitter-glue floor, Dean realized he was tired. His muscles were taught but happy and his skin was tingling with a light layer of sweat and glitter. He sat crosslegged in the hallway and pulled the bills from his shirt and the shoes so he could count it. He slid his fingers through it and felt a sense of weird accomplishment.  
  
“Hey, Princess.”  
  
Dean didn’t look up until Ariel’s gold clad foot tapped his leg. “Hmm?” He looked up.  
  
Ariel wore a look of giddy mischief. “You’ve got a lap dance.”  
  
Shaking his head frantically, Dean tucked the wad of cash into the toe of the shoe. “No, I told Balth that I wasn’t doing lap dances or anything.”  
  
Rolling her eyes, Ariel grabbed Dean’s wrist and pulled him toward the club. Dean struggled. His heart started to beat faster and his insides started to quake. He had never felt this lightheaded before. He felt sick to his stomach, too. It must have been the bond; it was making him sick just at the prospect of cheating on Cas.  
  
Dean began to hyperventilate and yanked his wrist free from Ariel. He sunk to the floor partway across the club and began to shake from the trembling in his stomach and the ache in his head. It was so much worse than any other sickness he had ever gotten.  
  
Up on the pole it was a show, it was not cheating on Cas; it was a performance, that was ‘Princess’ or whatever. But, here; this was different. This was bad.  
  
“Monkey?” Ariel’s voice had taken on a concerned edge. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to make some good fun. No one has requested a lap dance from you. It was only a joke; but someone is here to see you.” Ariel knelt next to Dean and scooped him up. “It was only a joke. I keep forgetting how strong yours and Cas’ bond is.”  
  
Dean nodded. There was no lap dance. His heart began to even out its beats and his throat began to work properly again.  
  
Tipping back away from him, Ariel looked down her nose. “Are you okay, are you up to walking?”  
  
Nodding, Dean stood wobbly on his bare feet. He was still holding the gold shoes by the straps. He followed Ariel closely and tried to ignore the leering gazes that turned his way.  
  
“Step off.” Ariel put up a hand to one man who looked like we was going to help himself to a free sample. Dean shuffled closer.  
  
Ariel came to a stop in front of a plush red chair and Dean almost ran into her. “Here we are.”  
  
Stepping around Ariel, Dean caught sight of who was sitting in the chair. Cas.  
  
Shame flooded Dean. He was standing, scantily clad and made up as a Drag Queen. He was covered in glitter and he probably looked like a mess after his exhausting performance. He looked down at his feet afraid of Cas’ response.  
  
“You look beautiful.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened at hearing Cas’ wrecked voice. Had he done this to Cas just by what he looks like? Had Cas seen his show? Was Cas okay with all of this? Did Cas know about the bet?  
  
“A bet?”  
  
A low thrumming started at the back of Dean’s head. It was like a voice picking up a melody and singing with ever present music, making it whole again. Cas' presence at the back of Dean’s skull lulled Dean. Cas had been at a long distance over most of the weekend and the return of their mind bond was a relief. And even better, it didn’t feel like Cas was mad; in fact, Cas felt happy.  
  
“Dean, what bet?”  
  
Dean shrugged, pulling a smirk onto his face at the surge of dignity and pride he got from the return of Cas’ mind bond. “Gabriel and I have a wager going on who can make more tips this weekend.”  
  
Reaching for Dean’s wrist, Cas scooted on the chair to make room for Dean to squish in beside him. They were extremely oversized chairs. “Who’s winning?”  
  
\---  
  
Gabriel and Dean were counting stacks of ones and fives at the bar once the last customer had left. Dean was behind the counter in his jeans again and a dark band t-shirt. Gabe had draped himself in a sheer kimono-style robe and wore his show outfit on underneath.  
  
Cas leaned against the counter next to Dean. “So if you lose, you give him a hundred dollars of your tips?”  
  
Nodding, Dean tried not to lose count. He did for a moment but a small voice in the back of his head told him he was at 134. He wasn’t sure if it was him or Cas; but, he thanked it anyway.  
  
Gabe finished counting and raised his hands in the air. “$2,023 for the week end.” He looked over Dean’s small stack. “Might as well admit defeat, kid.”  
  
Shaking his head, Dean lifted a gold shoe to the bar top and pulled out a wad of cash. Gabriel gawked openly.  
  
“Dude, what did you do? Sell your soul?” He pushed up to stand on the foot bar on his stool. He was almost Dean’s height that way.  
  
Balth snickered from where he was putting away some of the last bartending supplies for the night. “There was a misunderstanding and a shift on the stripper pole opened up. Dean humbly stepped in.” He wiped the sides of a bottle of vodka and placed it on the rack behind the bar. “It was quite a show.”  
  
Whining loudly, Gabe plopped back onto his stool and shot puppy dog eyes at his soul mate. “You like him more than me.”  
  
“Oh, yes. If tall and burly was my thing.” Balth sashayed forward and kissed Gabe on the forehead. “But it’s not.”  
  
“Shhhhhhh. Counting.” Dean pulled another wad from the other gold shoe; but, that one was smaller. He got quicker in his counting as his anticipation grew. He laughed and grinned until the placed the last one on the stack. He leaned forward and smirked at Gabe. “Over this weekend, I made $2,166. Suck it?”  
  
Gabe whined again. He huffed and counted out a hundred dollars. “Here.”  
  
Looking at the wad of money skeptically, Dean thought first. “Those aren’t ones that were stuffed into your underwear are they?”  
  
“No these were in my shirt.” He pointed at another pile. “Those were in my underwear.” Balth stepped forward and took that pile and walked away. Dean tried to ignore the pleased look of both of their faces.  
  
Disgust pulled at Dean’s lip; but, he took his payment. “Well, now that that’s done with. I’m looking forward to going back to bartending.” Dean pushed all of the small bills into his knapsack and zipped it closed.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Gabe waved a hand around in a noncommittal motion. He got up and made his way toward the back where Balth had already made his leave. Dean had a key to lock up the front.  
  
Cas grinned. “Congrats.” He pulled on Dean’s belt loop until Dean settled between his legs. Most of their weight was directed into the bar when Cas pulled Dean’s jaw up to him for a kiss. Dean rocked his hips a little. “I’d be okay if you still danced occasionally. But, next time, I want to get to see the entire show.”  
  
Smirking, Dean nipped at Cas’ lower lip. “Private dances cost more.”  
  
Cas smirked back. “Who said anything about private?”


End file.
